


Whelm

by aestaeticism



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Baekhyun almost splitting his head open, Chanbaek as Exes getting back together, Cuddles, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lots of cuddles, M/M, Morning Sex, Romance, Very vague attempt at poetic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestaeticism/pseuds/aestaeticism
Summary: Chanyeol loves Baekhyun in the first light of dawn and Baekhyun loves him back.It's as simple as that.





	Whelm

**Author's Note:**

> I've written this..can we call it drabble? Let's say snippet of something on a whim a couple of days ago, listening to this one song. I had the clear image of Baekhyun near a window at dawn and this is what my mind vomited on paper because of that image.  
> It's nothing special, but I like it and I hope you do as well. 
> 
> Ah, the prelude of the story is intentionally left vague.  
> You can create a background story for it by yourself :3  
> And nobody betaed this, so there could be typos or mistakes here and there.
> 
> As I usually do, here's some music for best appreciation [cliq!](https://soundcloud.com/jamesxcasey/whelm)

 

**WHELM**  
(v.) engulf, submerge, or bury (someone or something)

Chanyeol loves Baekhyun at 5:15, when he wakes up and he finds him sitting on the balcony staring at the streets at dawn -the asphalt glistening under the morning brizzle, four solitary cars, the streetlight turning green for no passersby. The dim light of the cigarette he’s holding between his fingers like a painter’s brush, the faint lighting coming from the window drawing diluted shadows on his features. There’s a hue to Byun Baekhyun’s skin at dawn, charm in the way he pulls the thick, tattered cardigan up his shoulders distractedly.

The street light turns green and it flickers intermittent. Baekhyun makes an art of tapping the ash of his cigarette into the bottom of a plastic bottle Chanyeol has cut out for him months ago. Chanyeol loves Baekhyun at 5:25, when his eyes flutter closed and his head lightly hits the window with a hollow sound.

Chanyeol loves him while he gets closer, trying hard not to drag his feet too much, not to make any noise. Baekhyun’s eyes stay shut -his fingers still hold onto the cigarette, burning away slowly. The smoke zigzags through patterns of grey in the shadows of the room, an empty bottle of vodka steals a few centimeters on the windowsill, together with the two forgotten -almost empty- glasses next to it.

In the distance, the noise of a plane landing silences Chanyeol’s last steps on the linoleum as Baekhyun blindly tosses the cigarette butt into the plastic bottle; the water in it has gone yellowish, ash collecting in the bumpy part at the bottom.

The sky is still dark, hues of indigo and china blue melting one into the other.

Baekhyun molds against him when Chanyeol’s body adheres to his, and he has to turn his head just slightly so that he can rest his cheek against Chanyeol’s sternum. It fits perfectly. Chanyeol’s hand between his slightly slouching shoulder blades fits perfectly, Chanyeol’s lips against the crown of Baekhyun’s head fit perfectly, Baekhyun’s hand sneaking under Chanyeol’s hoodie is icy cold - the right piece of a puzzle, skin touching skin - on the small of his back.

“Couldn’t sleep?,” Chanyeol asks murmuring. His breaths create circles of condensation on the surface of the glass. Baekhyun’s eyes are still closed. His dark hair -messy, way shorter than Chanyeol remembered it- smells like Chanyeol’s shower gel.

Baekhyun lets one of his legs dangle down the windowsill, then his foot -cold, freezing cold- curls around Chanyeol’s leg and he looks up to him with a sleepy grin, as if expecting him to spring away. Chanyeol doesn’t; he indulges in the contact, any contact he can get.

Chanyeol loves Baekhyun at 5:32 as he folds forward -his shoulder smears the condensation on the window- to bite weakly on the back of Baekhyun’s neck. He loves the low, staccato laugh that follows. He can’t resist the small ripples that run through Baekhyun’s body when he laughs.

“You snore,” Baekhyun adds after a while, in a belated answer. Chanyeol pushes him forward on the surface of the windowsill, so he can sit behind him and Baekhyun leans back with a sigh, content.

“You could’ve woken me up.” Chanyeol pulls out a cigarette from one of Baekhyun’s packets left next to impromptu ashtray. He used to smoke only expensive brands, said he notices when he’s smoking cheaper. Today, however, the cigarette Chanyeol is lighting up is a smuggled brand. He doesn’t comment. Baekhyun stirs, then turns around to encase his face into the curve of Chanyeol’s neck. A shiver runs like breeze down his back and he squirms when he feels softness melting on his skin. Baekhyun kisses his neck slow, without leaving any mark - his lips brush the hollow behind Chanyeol’s ear. He noses his jaw, then pecks then corner of Chanyeol’s eye with a sigh.

Baekhyun lets his forehead meet Chanyeol’s temple and he closes his eyes -his eyelashes tickle on Chanyeol’s skin.

“I didn’t want to. You hate me in the morning when I do.”

Chanyeol chuckles lightly, as he takes a drag of the cigarette, then blows the smoke away from Baekhyun’s face, towards the room. It’s almost 6 am and Chanyeol loves when Baekhyun shivers and groans because he hates the winter. He loves him even more because it’s not winter but autumn and it’s raining-- and Baekhyun usually loves the rain.

“You take all the covers away or kick me off the bed, how do you expect me to love you after that?,” Chanyeol complains, but he knows Baekhyun well enough to understand that he doesn’t process long sentences early in the morning.

“I wanted to look at the car lights anyway,” Baekhyun murmurs as an excuse. Chanyeol takes another long drag, then leans backwards until his back touches the window frame. His fingers, instead, follow the ladder of Baekhyun’s ribcage through the fabric of the fluffy cardingan and whatever cheap clothing he’s wearing underneath it. Baekhyun shivers some more, sensitive, his breath catches imperceptibly when Chanyeol’s touch gets feathery on his hip and his hand sneaks under his clothes.

“Not the dawn?,” Chanyeol questions, without really expecting a response. Baekhyun can be looking at anything for all he cares, if it means that Chanyeol gets to walk on him like that again, every morning.

“Sunrise is overrated. The car lights at dawn are more interesting.”

He’s joking, and Chanyeol catches the hint of it into his voice, but he’s too smitten to contradict him. He plays his game, while Baekhyun pushes Chanyeol’s hand upwards under the cardigan and the t-shirt. Baekhyun’s skin is warm under his fingertips. “My hands are cold,” he notes -Baekhyun half moans in response.

It’s Chanyeol searching for his lips, his hand tracing the shape of his hipbones, his abdomen. They’ve both gained some weight since last time they saw each other. Chanyeol hasn’t had a dawn like this in months.

_Chanyeol would give anything to always have a dawn like this._

They kiss slowly, lazily, tasting each other like an old couple. Baekhyun’s lips following the shape of Chanyeol’s, Chanyeol’s tongue tracing the seam of Baekhyun’s. The cigarette is burning between Chanyeol’s fingers.

Chanyeol loves Baekhyun at 6:03 as he turns around, searching for the waistband of Chanyeol’s sweats. Baekhyun looks into his eyes with this a gaze of such complicity and intimacy that Chanyeol is taken aback. All he can do is kiss the mole on Baekhyun’s cheek -the arch of his eyebrow in response.

“I missed you,” Chanyeol whispers against his skin as Baekhyun palms the front of the other’s boxers. Baekhyun’s lips curl up -he looks embarrassed. There’s not enough light in the room for Chanyeol to notice the redness diluting like watercolor -or sunburn?- on Baekhyun's cheeks.

“I want to do it,” Baekhyun murmurs with a certain degree of determination, as he pulls Chanyeol from the windowsill to the floor. Chanyeol is amazed at how automatic it feels to go for Baekhyun thighs and glide his hands up and down the sides, when Baekhyun straddles him, still dressed.

Chanyeol turns his head and lifts his forearm to take a last drag of his cigarette, when Baekhyun’s fingers reach of his jaw, possessive but delicate. They feel the slight gruffness of the stubble, follow the shape of it up to where it curves then Baekhyun says “Gimme” and Chanyeol just knows what he wants.

Baekhyun kisses him open mouthed, as a couple tendrils of smoke escape their mouths. Chanyeol hands glide under Baekhyun’s t-shirt and cardigan, palm his skin and every little change Chanyeol can sense under his fingertips -a scar where there was a mole before, a small bump from where Baekhyun hit his shoulder into the door this morning.

There’s no hurry in their movements, as Baekhyun takes the stub of the cigarette from Chanyeol’s fingers and Chanyeol is free to peel Baekhyun’s clothes off layer by layer; from the fluffy cardigan to the t-shirt -and he would stop there, if Baekhyun didn’t guide his hands inside his sweats where he’s wearing absolutely nothing.

“Aren’t you too old to go commando?,” Chanyeol questions, but he slides Baekhyun’s sweats down the curve of his butt first, then his thighs. Baekhyun chuckles and leans forward to take a last drag from the cigarette -the tip burning angry orange between Baekhyun’s perfect fingers.

“Nobody is ever too old to go commando,” he replies, and he brings the cigarette to Chanyeol’s lips once more before throwing it into the plastic bottle. “And I wanted you to touch me again,” he adds, with the same smugness yet nervousness so typical of Baekhyun in the bedroom.

“What about _my_ new assets?,” Chanyeol teases, as he takes his own hoodie off. His hair is a mess when he re-emerges from the bundle of fabric. He smiles a bit crookedly, but Baekhyun has that glint in his eyes again. “Don’t you want to touch?” Chanyeol even wiggles his eyebrows. Baekhyun, straddling him, reaches out to slide his hands up and down what once were some nice abs. He pinches the side of Chanyeol’s hip, yet gets incredibly closer until all Chanyeol feels is skin.

“You’re an old man now,” Baekhyun murmurs into his ear, then kisses the side of Chanyeol head, his cheek.

There’s nothing sensual into the pecks Baekhyun’s showering Chanyeol with, nothing erotic in the way Chanyeol bites his cheek in response. Yet the way they’re exploring each other bodies, the way Baekhyun’s fingers hesitate on Chanyeol’s upper arms, on the veins on his forearms is overwhelming enough to send Chanyeol into a haze.

“I’m not twenty-eight yet, Hyun-ah,” he clips back with no bite and too late to be the right timing. Baekhyun’s eyes softens when Chanyeol calls him that.

 

There’s nothing hasted about their love making, just like their kisses. It’s been months, yet they know each other’s body like no other lover they tried to indulge with ever knew.

Chanyeol knows where to touch to make Baekhyun shake, how hard to push when he wants to make him moan. He knows Baekhyun prefers to lie down, his legs wrapped around Chanyeol’s hips as Chanyeol kneels in front of him and thrusts into him. Chanyeol palms down Baekhyun’s spread thighs, on the softness of his hips. He leans down to press a kiss in the middle of his sternum, like a promise.

Baekhyun whines when Chanyeol speeds up, as usual preferring the long, relentless drag of slow morning sex. He forces Chanyeol to help him up so he can circle his neck and hide his face in the crook of his shoulder, muffle his moans into Chanyeol’s skin as he pushes up.

Chanyeol hears the quicky, breathless rhythm of Baekhyun’s heart drumming against his ribcage more than he can hear his own. The sky is turning lighter outside, a car ignores the red traffic light and Baekhyun must have curled his toes for pleasure because Chanyeol feels his legs tense up.

“I want you…,” Baekhyun pants into his neck, desperate, as if they weren’t having sex right now. Chanyeol needs to close his eyes, control this wave of emotions that washes over him like morning undertow. He’s about as close as he can be to Baekhyun right now but it’s not enough.

Baekhyun doesn’t oppose when Chanyeol pushes him down again with a little more force than necessary, accidentally making him hit the edge of the windowsill. He does groan in pain, which is followed by a whimpery laughter. He even hits Chanyeol’s wrist after that.

He relaxes, after Chanyeol starts drawing circles on his stomach attentively, tender. Then Baekhyun’s hand reaches for Chanyeol’s thighs and Chanyeol guides his legs up a little, as he picks up a rhythm again.

 

They look at each other for a moment in understanding, in the light of dawn, then Baekhyun makes a desperate, guttural sound and Chanyeol reaches for his hands. He locks his fingers with Baekhyun’s and slows down his movements, brows furrowed. Holding onto Baekhyun’s hands feels like a safe haven after months of being lost at sea.

 

 _More?_ he asks, his voice molding around a pant. _More_ Baekhyun replies, and Chanyeol complies.

 

.

Baekhyun brushes away stray tears from Chanyeol’s cheeks as he murmurs _I love you_ s into Baekhyun’s neck -he’s not crying. He just tears up when he lies down, or so he says.

The first rays of light reflect on their bodies tangled up on the warmed up pavement. Chanyeol has pushed the fluffy, tattered cardigan under Baekhyun’s back and insists of making sure his hips are covered.

“You’re hopeless,” Baekhyun teases, but he shifts so he can hug Chanyeol tighter and rest his chin on Chanyeol’s head. There’s no piece of Baekhyun’s skin that’s not touching Chanyeol’s. It’s been months since they’ve last seen each other and it should be awkward, but it isn’t.

Nothing odd in the way Chanyeol’s fingers trace shapes on any patch of Baekhyun’s skin he can touch. Nothing foreign in Baekhyun’s fingers carding through Chanyeol’s messy black locks.

Chanyeol even kisses where Baekhyun had hit the table while they were having sex. Baekhyun suddenly remembers for the pang of pain and the squeeze at his heart that comes with Chanyeol pressing his lips a few centimeters behind his ear -so caring.

It’s almost morning and Chanyeol loves Baekhyun as they keep close on the floor and caress each other’s skin -mending old memories, making new ones. There’s a bottle of vodka on the windowsill, a makeshift ashtray and the wrap of the condoms they used.

The airport is close enough for them to see the planes take off and land and hear them way too loud. There’s a bunch of cars in front of the traffic light now, as the world wakes up and gets hectic and busy as usual.

Baekhyun chuckles, kissing his eyes when Chanyeol groans because the sun -it’s not even fully morning yet- blinds him. “Morning nap?” he prompts, and it takes less time or effort than expected for Chanyeol to hoist him up, still all wrapped into the warm cardigan.

“I love you,” Baekhyun whispers into his ear like a secret, as Chanyeol pulls the blinds in the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed. Chanyeol smiles, bright. It’s a smile Baekhyun has missed; a smile he was forcing himself to forget. He doesn’t need to now.

“You know I’m not leaving again, right?,” Chanyeol asks when they’re under warm covers already and Baekhyun sneaks his cold feet between Chanyeol’s legs. Baekhyun nods, more asleep than awake. “You promised,” he says as a reminder and Chanyeol just hums in response.

“Don’t hate me in the mornings though…” Baekhyun asks, his voice muffled against Chanyeol’s chest, as the other traces the curve of his back with his fingertips.  
Chanyeol chuckles, breathily.  
“I won’t.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :3 I'd love to hear what you think about it in the comments.  
> Also, come say hi on twitter @roseygrid!


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